


Waking Up To a Familiar Face

by sherlockpond



Category: Torchwood
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, 5+1 Times, Affection, Alive Ianto Jones, COE Fix-it, Descriptive Death, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Ianto Jones, Love, M/M, Multiple Deaths, Napping, Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood), dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockpond/pseuds/sherlockpond
Summary: Ianto makes it his mission to be with Jack every time he comes back to life.(Five times Ianto was there for Jack, and one time Jack was there for Ianto)[These snippets take place between (2x01) Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and (2x06) Reset.]
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 12
Kudos: 249





	Waking Up To a Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> Blimey it's been a while. 
> 
> This hasn't been checked over by anyone except me, so there's probably loads of mistakes. Also, on a second read through, it's a little repetitive, so apologies. 
> 
> I recently got back into TW after it was uploaded onto the BBC streaming service, and now I've got tickets for Comic Con to see them all in April. Weird how life works in circles.
> 
> I'm always bitter about Ianto's death, they never gave him the opportunity to actually thrive as a part of the team, he would have been fundamental during Miracle Day - I honestly believe he would have added something incredible. 
> 
> I'll stop. Please enjoy this dip into the past!

**1\. Gun-Shot Wound.**

It's a bullet to the gut and Ianto hasn't seen so much blood since Lisa, another bloody alien with a gun in a back alley in Cardiff. Holding Jack’s body, trembling and growing colder, he whispers to him.

“S’okay, I know it hurts but please just try to relax. I...I don’t know what else to do. Close your eyes, Jack,” he says frantically “I'm here, Jack, let go.”

When Jack's says his name it's with blood on his lips, he chokes on it and red blossoms down his cheek. It's difficult but Ianto hauls Jack into his lap and holds him close, slowly rocking him and murmuring a song he learnt when he was a kid.

He forgets the first few lines and just hums until he gets to the bit he remembers:

_‘Ni chaiff dim amharu’th gyntun,_

_Ni wna undyn â thi gam...’_

He holds Jack until his heart stops beating, shuddering, Ianto draws a breath and sits up, shifting around until he's kneeling over Jack’s head before pillowing it on his knees and putting a hand on each shoulder. Then he waits for the tissue to grow back, the blood to fill his veins back up and then for his heart to start beating. 

It takes so long that Ianto worries that perhaps the spell of immortality has come to an end, he moves his left hand to check for a pulse.

“Ah! Wh- I- uh,” Jack springs back to life and Ianto is leaning so far down they nearly smack heads. 

“Hey! Hey! You're fine, I got you!” Ianto urges as Jack's hands scrabble for purchase on his arms.

“Ianto! You're not --,” Jack hauls himself up and looks over Ianto quickly in the sodium light.

“I'm fine, apart from having to watch you die, I'm fine,” Ianto says, standing up and noting the twinge in his back “you feeling okay?”

Jack grimaces and spits out some blood onto the asphalt and wipes his mouth. Ianto wrinkles his nose.

“No better than usual,” Jack says and then physically checks in with himself “thanks...for staying,”

Ianto gives him a sad smile “You're welcome,”

**2\. Decapitation.**

Ianto wonders what dying must be like, he's only got his own experiences of pain to go on, but he's sure it probably hurts much more than that. But he often wonders if it's ever painless.

Being decapitated probably isn't painless.

Jack lies on a mortuary draw, the clear line from the blade across his throat, and there's a few bits of tissue poking out, yet to sew themselves back together. Ianto has to admit he can do blood, but all that internal stuff did make him feel a bit green around the gills.

He strokes Jack's hair and sings, a little louder this time, considering the privacy of the medical bay and the fact everyone else had headed home.

_“Gwena’n dawel yn fy mynwes,_

_Ar yr engyl gwynion draw…”_

It's so quiet that Ianto can hear the moment when Jack’s shallow breathing starts, giving him two seconds warning before he shoots upright and is caught into Ianto’s arms.

Jack's hands grab at Ianto’s suit and he's so bloody strong the younger man swears he hears the material crack in protest, but it doesn't matter, just another trip to the tailor, it's only a suit.

“It's okay,” Ianto says, rubbing a few soothing circles into Jack's still cold back.

“Bad one,” Jack mutters into his shoulder, breathing in Ianto’s cologne.

“They're all bad,” Ianto says, pressing a soft kiss into his neck.

Jack can't find the energy to reply and just sags into Ianto's arms.

“Let’s get you to bed,” 

**3\. Poison.**

“You know, I do miss the old days,”

“Is that you admitting to missing _me_?”

John Hart smiles broadly and takes another sip of whisky before reaching for the bottle and topping up both of their glasses. Jack cornered him at a small pub in the centre of the city, after a short and sweet evacuation and a small case of deja vu, only the two men remain, sitting at the bar with a stolen bottle of Bruichladdich.

“No, Jack, I just miss a simpler time. Wake up, _sex,_ ” he gives Jack a pointed look “shower, shave, fresh and ready to do some easy work. A casino, an old millionaire on the edge of death with a _very_ _flexible_ will. Just...black and white, come and go, like the wind,”

Jack eyes him with suspicion “You think _that_ was a simpler time?”

John leans over and puts both of his hands on each other Jack’s thighs and slowly slides them up.

“I think,” he says quietly, eyes dark “you and I could fall back into a routine if you just gave up this little fantasy of protecting one, stupid, ugly, planet,”

Jack stops the hands from their intended destination with a quick movement, grabbing John’s wrists. He leans forward and John can feel his breath on his ear.

“I think...you need to find another old flame to torment, because this _routine_ was wearing thin last time, now it feels like desperation,” Jack says, leaning back and downing the rest of his drink “great to catch up, but I've got a date to get to,”

“You always were a two-timer,” John says smoothly, picking up the bottle and taking a swig, sliding off the bar stool and getting up onto his feet.

Jack raises his eyebrows as he pulls on his coat “And you were always a drama queen, so either leave, or I'll _make you_ leave,”

John smirks “You know, I'm _very tempted_ to see what _making_ me leave entails,”

Jack tucks his stool under the bar and chuckles “One day you gotta get over me,”

“Who says I'm not?” John says, dipping his hand into his waistband and pulling out a gun, cocking it and pointing it at Jack’s head.

Jack rolls his eyes “You're going to shoot me now? You know it doesn't work, and I'd rather not get blood on this shirt - like I said, places to be,”

John laughs coldly and thinks for a second “You're right, I don't need to shoot you to kill you, Jack,”

Jack looks at him, puzzled.

“Can't you feel it?” John says, taking a step towards him “rushing through your veins, you know in all the years we've known each other and you _still_ let me pour you drinks. I'd say you're getting sloppy, but we both know you always were too quick to trust,”

Jack stumbles and props himself up on the bar. 

“Now, now, I'd just relax if I were you,” John says, sauntering over and wrapping and arm around Jack's waist “wouldn't want to hurt that pretty face of yours,” he gently lowered Jack onto the ground, the room spinning - John barely in focus. Jack couldn't do anything but seeth and growl with disgust, spit hissing from his lips.

“Come on, don't be a sore loser,” John knelt to run his knuckles on the other man's cheek “everything I do, it's just a test. You'll come back to me, you always do. But for now just lie back and try _not_ to be a pain in my ass for a while,” he pauses and looks towards the entrance as the sound of the SUV pulls up outside “ah, that's my cue. Give my love to Eye-Candy, I hear it's always the quiet ones that are the filthiest,”

Jack doesn't see him leave, he's too busy trying to focus on the ceiling, but it keeps falling in and out of his vision, darkness begins to creep in at the edges of his eyes and he feels the familiar sensation of death.

The door behind him bursts open but it sounds like it's underwater and in slow motion, there's shouting and a figure, blurry and frantic, comes into his shrinking line of sight. It shouts his name, but it sounds so distant, Jack lets out one last breath before letting the poison finish its job.

**

It doesn't matter how many times Ianto sees it, it never gets easier. As the door to the pub is kicked in, the prone figure of Jack lies parallel with the bar. Ianto rushes over.

“Jack!” 

He falls to his knees, instantly checking for a pulse or and wound. Owen, Tosh and Gwen hold their guns defensively as they check the room. Owen looks at the two glasses.

“Any pulse?” he asks Ianto.

Ianto pauses for a second “No, there's foam around his lips though. Looks like - -,”

“- - poison,” Owen finishes, raising his eyebrows, eyeing the two tumblers with trepidation.

“How does he always get the drop on us?” Gwen hisses after a quick recon of the back exit of the pub.

“John’s a slippery bastard, Gwen, I wouldn't expect anything else,” Owen snaps, pulling on latex gloves and depositing the whisky glasses into individual evidence bags and sealing them.

Tosh absent-mindedly scans the room for anything untoward “Well, he hasn't laid any traps, there's nothing coming up on the scanner,”

Gwen titters “It's not like him to leave without blowing something up,”

“Perhaps we shouldn't question his change of character and just get the hell out of here,” Owen says, walking over to Ianto and the still dead Jack, together they heave Jack up and drag him out the pub, Owen falters for a second and Jack's head hits the roof of the SUV.

“Carefull!” Ianto snaps, manoeuvring Jack off his shoulder and into one of the seats.

Owen scowls “Ianto, he's already dead, I doubt it'll make much difference,”

Ianto just throws him a dangerous look and climbs into the middle seat, strapping Jack in and then himself, Tosh joins him and Owen gets into the driver's seat, Gwen in the drivers passenger seat.

“It shouldn't be too much longer,” Ianto mumbles, checking for a pulse - still nothing.

The engine fires up and writhing seconds they're tearing back to the Hub, they sit in silence, the only sound coming from Tosh tapping on her PDA and running tests and Gwen typing a message to Andy to send a car to the pub. They're about 30 seconds from reaching the underpass to the garage when Jack shudders, his head snaps up and he draws in a loud breath.

“Bastard!” he croaks hoarsely, putting a hand on his neck and wincing.

“Yeah, we know,” Gwen says, not looking up from her phone.

Ianto's hand finds Jack's, they don't normally do the whole affection thing in front of other people, but he feels like Jack might need it right now, so he squeezes reassuringly.

“You didn't miss much, nearly back,”

Jack grimaces and then tries for a pained smile “I need a nap,”

Ianto gives a short laugh “I'll get some coffee on the go for when you wake up,”

  
**4\. High Velocity Impact.**

Ianto was out of breath, _God why couldn't these bloody aliens just quietly surrender_? In the distance he sees Jack’s coat billowing in the wind, hot on the heels of a new, unidentified species. After a few seconds, Ianto pushes off the wall he was using to hold himself up and heads in the same direction. He spots Jack turn into right into an old disused railway station, vaulting over the fence like some damn Olympian.

_Here we bloody go, full of grace, you try looking that bloody graceful, Jones_.

Ianto scales the fence, with some difficulty, his foot slips a few times and he curses Torchwood for ruining yet another pair of shoes. He nearly falls over as he jumps back down to the ground. He pulls his gun into defensive and listens out for movement.

Turning a corner he hears a scuffle and sharply points it in the direction of the noise. Jack's fighting off the alien with his bare hands, Ianto _really_ doesn't want to kill Jack in the crossfire and he watches as they both struggle for control, until the alien - human-ish but with rows upon rows of glass-like teeth pushes Jack and he stumbles back, arms almost swing around comically, and just as Ianto thinks he's caught himself Jack loses his balance and falls backwards, a horn blasts and Ianto squeezes his eyes closed just in time to hear the sickening snap of bones as a train hurtles past the station, the turbulence from the train pushing Ianto away from the edge.

He opens his eyes as the alien spots him and promptly empties a clip into it. He drops the magazine out flawlessly, reloads and empties another - just to be safe. The alien staggers and keels over. He doesn't really want to, but Ianto looks right towards the tracks and suppresses the urge to vomit. He knows it could be worse but it's still harrowing to see. He turns away and calls Tosh.

“Tosh. Call Cardiff Central, block all lines on the up and down at Marshfield, Jack's had...an accident,”

“Dead?” she asks dubiously

“Very. Can you send Owen and Gwen? I'm going to need their help,”

“Will do, I'll make sure the police don't intrude,”

“Thanks Tosh, and tell Own to bring two body bags, there's a new alien to be catalogued. I've emptied a couple of rounds into it, I don't know whether it'll stay dead.”

“Yeah, understood. Gwen and Owen are on their way,”

“Great, thanks,”

He hangs up and walks over to a rotting, peeling bench, sighing as he drops onto it, it creaks uneasily.

“What a fucking day,”

**

It feels like hours until the telltale sound of screeching tyres echoes around the abandoned station and Gwen and Owen appear. The alien hasn't moved, neither has Ianto, unable to look towards the platform edge.

“Jesus Christ,” Gwen says in disbelief, looking over the wreckage of body parts, Ianto sitting motionless and the body lying on the ground.

Owen is straight over to the alien, unfolding one of the body bags next to it.

“Gwen, bit of help,” he calls, and she's comes back to herself, striding over and grasping the aliens ankles.

“1...2...3 - up,” Owen says, and together they get the alien over the body bag and Gwen turns back to Ianto as Owen zips it up.

“Reckon you can help us clean up? It's pretty grizzly but it's mostly just big pieces.”

Ianto nods numbly, he knows Jack’ll be back, it's just not great sweeping up the body parts of your dead boyfriend after waking up with him the very same morning.

“Come on, he'll be back in no time,” Gwen offers her hand and Ianto takes it, allowing himself to be pulled off the bench.

It doesn't take as long as expected, soon Owen is ringing Tosh to call back Cardiff Central and reopen to line.

Ianto zips up the last bag of Jack and grimly puts it in the back of the SUV. He gets into the back, not looking forward to putting him back together. There's limbs bent out of shape, one shoulder that looks completely contorted and his head is barely hanging on, Ianto doesn't want to see that ever again. The long wool coat is nearly a complete write-off, but Ianto knows a tailor who can probably patch it together and a dry cleaner who'll make it look brand new - he bundles that up in its own bag and reminds himself to sort it out later.

They get back to the Hub and dump the bags in the medical bay. Ianto grips the railings. Owen pulls out an autopsy draw and opens one of the bags.

“I-I don't think…,” Ianto begins but he blanches, knuckles white as he clutches the edge of the slab, Owen cuts across him.

“I could really use some coffee, Ianto,” he says, looking at him knowingly. Trust Owen to not be able to properly verbalise but still somehow understand.

“Yeah... I'll get some on,” Ianto says, turning around heading up the steps to the coffee machine.

“Maybe some biscuits!” Owen calls.

Ianto smiles a little “Don't push it!” he calls back.

He returns fifteen minutes later, coffee in one hand and a small plate with some custard creams in the other. Owen has what’s left of Jack covered in a (now bloodied) sheet and the alien uncovered on a separate slab

“Ianto Jones, is there any reason why this _brand new_ alien has more holes in it than a colander?” Owen asks sarcastically, pointing to the ballistic holes with his scalpel.

Ianto shrugs “Just, you know, making sure it was dead,”

“Ianto, it's about two shots away from looking like it lost a fight with a hole puncher,”

Ianto looks down “I just sort of went into automatic,”

Owen rolls his eyes and picks up a grizzly looking saw, it’s at this point Ianto dismisses himself, he turns to leave.

“I’ll have Jack sent down to the morgue. You can do whatever it is you do away from the rest of us,” Owen says, not looking up from the body “and Ianto?”

“Mmm?”

“Save yourself the nightmares and leave the sheet over him,”

Ianto smiles tightly, giving a short nod before turning his heel and heading down to the lower levels.

**

Ianto spends the afternoon waiting, and then late into the evening. The temptation to pull the sheet back is overwhelming but he knows it’s not worth the risk. It’s only when he hears the familiar rattle of lungs that he knows what’s about to happen next. The sheet jerks upwards in a sudden wave of movement and Jack’s arms swing wildly as he re-animates back into the living world. Ianto tries to catch him as he bolts up but his reactions aren’t as quick as he hoped, so instead Jack’s fist clips his ear and Ianto falls back into the array of square doors, losing his balance and crumpling onto the floor. His ear rings and burns as he grabs hold of it, checking for any blood, when he’s satisfied there’s none he looks up at the slab and sees Jack, now whole but looking a little rueful.

“I didn’t realise you coming back to life was such a danger to the rest of us,” Ianto quips, pulling himself to his feet.

Jack gives him a wry smile “That’s what you get for putting me on a freezing cold metal table. My ass is like ice,” he pauses for a second “you alright?”

Ianto gives him a hopeful smile “No broken bones. All part of the job,”

Jack throws him a look.

“I’m fine, as long as you are,” Ianto assures him.

“Gimme a scotch, some clothes and I’ll be a new man,” Jack says, throwing his legs over the side of the slab, jumping down and losing his balance a little. Ianto quickly threads an arm around his waist to hold him up.

“Bloody useless, you are,” he jokes.

Jack laughs “Good thing that you’re around,”

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Ianto says quickly, his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

They stop for a second and the air around them changes. Their eyes meet and Ianto’s gaze drops down to Jack’s lips, Ianto wets his lips. The atmosphere is thick, palpable and Jack raises a hand slowly, his thumb traces Ianto’s cheek. The Welshman’s eyes flutter shut.

“ _Jack,_ ” he whispers, soft and barely there.

“I think we should take this somewhere else,” 

Ianto nods, hardly there, his eyes open but they’re heavy-lidded and his eyes are dark. 

Jack smiles lewdly and leads him by the hand up to the main Hub, the sheet from the slab tucked statuesquely and securely around his waist.

**5\. Drowning.**

Ianto pulls another drag from the cigarette held tight between chapped lips. He doesn’t make a habit of smoking, and in his own defence he had kicked the habit between London and Cardiff but then Torchwood happened for a second time (after much persuasion) and Ianto needed relief that wasn’t found at the bottom of a bottle. 

Breathing out, Ianto watches a plume of smoke dissipate into the midnight air. Leaning up against the wall to the entrance of the Tourist Information Centre, Ianto closes his eyes for a second and tries to enjoy the sensation of cold air on his face. The rest of the team would be back soon, and Ianto tried to enjoy the silence of the night, the echoes of the city and the small ringing bells of boats moored up in the bay.

The familiar roar of the SUV growls in the distance, getting closer and Ianto drops the cigarette on the floor, stamping it out carefully with his last good pair of Italian shoes, when he’d first started he’d had three - he assumes that _must_ be a first world problem.

Seconds later Tosh, Owen and Gwen appear on the quay-side decking. Owen looks more pissed off than normal because he has a Jack shaped lump over his shoulder. There’s visible sweat on his brow and Ianto does his best to hide a smile at the other man’s discomfort, there’s a little revenge for all the digging he does at Ianto’s expense. The only thing the Welshman takes perhaps a little more smugness from is that he’s probably getting more sex than Owen. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Ianto pulls the door to the Tourist Information open and the others cross through the threshold, Owen is the last before Ianto closes the door, slides the lock across and trails behind to the Hub. 

The cog swings out of their path as Tosh slides her pass through the reader, they all walk in silence up the stairs onto the main platform where their desks are. It’s only at this point Ianto realises that Jack is sopping wet, probably adding to the weight across Owen’s shoulder. 

“Ianto, mate, Jack’s not the daintiest of blokes, any chance you could take over?” Owen says, trying to look behind him.

Ianto’s there in a flash, Owen passes the half-dead Jack to him and _yeah, not the lightest_. Ianto hobbles with him over to Jack’s office and lays him down on the floor before lifting up the hatch to the bedroom below and lowering Jack down with oddly little difficulty. He organises Jack out onto his side, retrieves two blankets and folds one over to protect the duvet and then covers him with the other, before heading back up the ladder to retrieve some more supplies. He stops by the Autopsy Bay and spots Owen prodding a lump of carved blue rock with a strange instrument.

“Owen, what was it this time?”

Owen looks up and gives him a grim look “Drowning, but he was down there longer than I’ve seen before. The oxygen deprivation probably’ll be the thing that takes longest to heal.”

Ianto nods and goes to leave, put on some coffee, ready for the possibilty of another long night.

“Ianto!”

He turns.

“Mmm?”

“You might want to get a container or something, Jack might have inhaled a fair amount of water. I don’t think it’ll be pretty when he...comes back,” Owen wrinkles his nose at the thought and Ianto nods numbly, before wandering off to the sink and rinsing off the plastic bowl inside.

He fumbles with the machine for a while, decides to kill two birds with one stone and fills a cafetiere with coffee and (just below boiling) water. Leaving it to steep for a bit.

“Coffee on the side, give it five,” he says as he passes Gwen and Tosh, both of them typing out reports looking half-dead. Ianto, once again, descends into the hole in the floor, one hand clutching a the washing-up bowl, a bottle of water in his jacket pocket.

Jack’s still unconscious and Ianto places the bowl and bottle on the bed before pulling the blanket back and slowly taking off the sodden greatcoat, pushing the braces off each shoulder and unbuttoning his shirt. Normally, this is all a bit more hastily done, fingers fumbling with buttons whilst hands wander over clothed skin and teeth bite at exposed neck. But now, Ianto takes his time, untucking the shirt and feeling next to nothing in terms of sexual excitement, he feels like he should, but this is about care, not sex. The clothes are expertly rid off, one by one, and replaced with fresh, warm soft clothes. Jack doesn’t tend to wear it, but Ianto has a soft spot for a dark blue wool jumper and he manages to get it over Jack’s head and down his body, each hand pulled through with the utmost care. Ianto looks down at him with a sad smile, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except make Jack as comfortable as possible.

After a few seconds, Ianto pulls himself together and unbuttons Jack’s trousers, pulling them down to his knees and then off in two fluid motions. He turns to reach for an old dark grey woollen pair.

“You know, I think I had a dream like this once,”

Ianto’s head snaps around to see Jack looking tired, a half smile on his face.

“I’ve had better dreams,” Ianto quips and Jack looks scorned but amused “what did you get yourself into this time?”

“There was a little boy. The alien, it tried to drown him...I couldn’t let that happen,”

Jack goes to sit up and Ianto’s instincts kick in as he hears Jack’s chest grumble, within seconds he’s holding the plastic bowl under Jack’s head and the sound of retching fills the small room.

“Owen mentioned you might have some water inhalation,” he explains, running a hand through Jack’s hair.

“You think?” Jack says, it echoes in the bowl before a few more retches shake his body.

“It’ll pass,” Ianto says softly as Jack shudders.

After a few minutes the worst of it clears and silence follows. Jack lets out a long breath before collapsing back into the pillows, looking worse than before.

“It’s a bit chilly in here, mind finishing the job?” Jack says quietly, nodding to the discarded trousers.

Ianto places the bowl where neither of them will knock it over and grabs the trousers, putting a foot in each leg, and together they wiggle them up to sit on Jack’s waist. He looks so soft in this outfit, Ianto isn’t sure he’s ever seen him look this vulnerable.

“Not my worst look,” Jack comments, closing his eyes.

“I think it suits you. You look like the captain of a fishing boat,” Ianto runs a hand across Jack’s chest soothingly, he visibly relaxes under the ministrations. 

Jack chuckles, low and deep “Nap with me,”

Ianto looks up at the hole in the ceiling “The team - -,”

“- - will be fine. Just...come here,” Jack says, extending the arm nearest to Ianto as an open invitation. Ianto takes another look up and then decides to be selfish, unbuttoning his jacket and then his waistcoat, he folds them neatly on the bed and then pillows his head on Jack’s wool-soft arm. The other man presses a light kiss into his hair, and trails his fingers on the back of Ianto’s neck. Ianto doesn’t know which of them falls asleep first, but when he wakes up there’s a blanket over both of them, his jacket and waistcoat are gone and the plastic bowl has disappeared. Ianto smiles and notices the light from the hatch has dimmed. He doesn’t know who he has to thank, but he’ll find out.

**+1**

_9th July 2019_

Jack Harkness stands at the foot of a grave, a bottle of Scotch in one hand and a Sainsbury’s bag in the other. He takes a swig and grimaces as it burns down his throat. 

_They promised today_ he thinks tapping his foot impatiently. 

The sun sets, casting pinks and purples across the horizon, clouds gilded with gold and Jack begins to lose hope. He sits down to watch the last few stray sun beams reaching across the sky and goes to take another swig of Scotch, only to realise the bottle is empty. 

He sighs and drops the bottle, it lands on the grass with a dull _thump_. His eyes slide closed and he drops into unconsciousness.

The darkness welcomes him with open arms and Jack happily accepts.

When he wakes the first thing he notices is how damp his coat is. The sky is pitch black, pin pricks of light come alive as Jack’s eyes adjust to the darkness, and he raises a hand to wipe away wetness from his cheeks.

_Crying in my sleep. Nothing out of the ordinary there._

Jack takes a deep breath and leans on the headstone as he gets to his feet with a groan. A flash out the corner of his eye catches his attention, and Jack slowly turns his eyes following the lights. His mouth falls open as they swell and shrink as one in front of him, silently shifting and figuring him out, it comes close and Jack tries to take a step back but his foot stumbles on the bottom of the headstone. It touches his chest lightly, so light he doesn’t even feel it. The lights reflexively flinch backwards before lowering into the soil below, making the grass glow and dim.

Jack sucks in a breath and hope blossoms in his chest. He sits back down and patiently waits.

More hours pass and Jack’s eyes grow heavy again. His head drops and he snaps awake, just in time to see the Earth in front of him begin to shift. Fingers appear in the cold moonlight and Jack bursts into action, adrenaline burning through his veins, blunt nails scrabble at the soil, tearing it apart. His fingernails ache as soil gets trapped underneath them, but it doesn’t put him off, Jack digs faster and wrists appear, then forearms, soon Jack sees the top of a head and dirty hair. He chokes on air as he fully comprehends what’s going on. 

“ _Ianto. Hold on._ ” he chokes, digging faster. He takes a chance and stands up, grabbing the hands and pulls, using all the strength he has left.

“ _Come on!”_ he groans, heaving, feeling the body shift and break free from the ground.

In one last, beautiful pull, Jack hauls the dirtied - but alive - body of one Ianto Jones onto dewy grass. Jack falls to his knees beside him, panting, his eyes burning with hot tears. Ianto’s on his front and Jack rolls him over before collapsing next to him. Ianto chokes and dirt propels out of his airways on a harsh breath from his lips, he retches and rolls onto his side, away from Jack and promptly vomits a black tar-like substance onto the grass. He rolls back, energy spent, and takes long deep, painful breaths.

Jack turns his head up to look up at a face he’s missed so dearly. He reaches for his hand and grasps it, Ianto’s head leans to look down and their eyes meet and they both _smile._

“I couldn’t... leave you…. to…. wake up alone,” Jack pants, rubbing his thumb against gritty knuckles.

“J- J..Ja…,” Ianto’s throat sounds as rough as sandpaper and he retches again. 

“Don’t talk. Save your energy.” Jack drags himself onto his hands and knees, and crawls to the plastic bag, he digs to the bottom and pulls out a canister of water. He shuffles back over to Ianto, positioning himself by his head, before pulling his shoulders up and cradling him in his arms, Ianto’s back to Jack’s chest. He presses the canister into his palm.

“You need to drink. Slowly.” Jack says, moving until they’re both comfortable. 

Ianto nods and shakily unscrews the top, Jack takes the lid from him as Ianto raises the water to his lips and takes a small sip. 

“Good,”

“Wh-what happened?” Ianto manages.

Jack grimaces but looks down at him sympathetically “I got you back.”

Ianto’s eyes search around but it’s too dark, it’s just the side of Jack’s face illuminated by the moon. Cold, white light against dewy skin.

“H- h - how?” 

“I searched for years. Followed stories, legends, anything.” Jack says and he’s crying again, it’s not relief but pent up grief spilling from his eyes.

“Years?” Ianto’s eyebrows knit together.

Jack smiles sadly “It’s been ten years.” 

“Ten?” Ianto croaks, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” 

Ianto closes his eyes with tiredness and rests it against Jack’s shoulder.

“We need to get you somewhere warm, getting ill is that last thing you need right now,”

Ianto manages a small, soft smile and Jack wraps his arms around him, seconds away from pulling the younger man to his feet.

“I promise I’ll take better care of you this time,”

_fin_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A sweet but sad reintroduction into the fandom.
> 
> Gimme a kudos/comment if you've got time. 
> 
> sherlockpond.tumblr.com
> 
> <3


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